Waves Like the Sea
by Expecting Rain
Summary: Several years after the War of the Ring, Legolas is captured by Haradrim traders and sold into slavery. Hurt and alone, he succumbs to the sea-longing. Aragorn and Gimli find him, but perhaps only to lose him again to the sea. Summary/Explanation inside.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Before you read this, I'd like to explain what it is. It started out as a short little drabble, but it got longer and longer, and now it's almost a short story (it will be four chapters altogether). As you might guess, it's very angst-y. It's also semi-stream-of-consciousness, present tense, and it switches between Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli, but it's all third person. I'm also assuming a Legolas/Aragorn friendship and pain-filled past - you know the type of story I'm referencing (I love them but haven't yet managed to write one of my own). Hope you like it! And please review, even if you didn't.

**Disclaimer: **I own neither _the Lord of the Rings_ nor _the Awakening_.

* * *

**Waves Like the Sea**

"_The voice of the sea is seductive; never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander for a spell in abysses of solitude, to lose itself in mazes of inward contemplation. The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace."_

_-__The Awakening__ by Kate Chopin_

**Chapter One**

"You're mine now, Elf," the man hisses, his breath hot against Legolas' ear. The man is uncomfortably close; he has a firm grip on Legolas' hands, bound together behind his back. The tips of his boots touch Legolas' heels, and the man's chest brushes almost imperceptibly against the Elf's back as the man whispers in his ear.

"I belong to no one, least of all you," Legolas says calmly – it always irritates them more when he is calm. He does not know why he persists in antagonizing them – by now he should have learned, but it has become a game almost – the glares, the calm looks, the biting words, those are his weapons – and if it is a game it is a little more bearable, it gives him something to think about, to dwell on, something other than what will happen to him this time.

"You belong to me, Elf," the man says harshly. Flecks of spittle hit Legolas' cheek; he wrinkles his nose in distaste. "And I paid a pretty penny for you, too."

Indeed he did – it is not funny now, but it will be funny later; he will laugh about it later, Legolas tells himself: He and Gimli, captured together on the outskirts of Mordor and taken here, to Harad, with other unfortunate wanderers, fetched very different prices, Legolas' markedly higher. One day this will be funny, he tells himself.

It is not funny now. Legolas cannot think - does not want to think - why this man paid such a high price for him. He does not know the man's name or his profession. He was simply bought and taken through the streets of this town – he does not know _its_ name either – to a giant building on the outskirts of the city, a huge sprawling thing complete with dense gardens and a dank, dark cellar where he is currently being held. The structure has an air of something dark and illicit; he does not particularly want to find out what happens here.

"You cannot buy me with money any more than you can buy yourself a respectable name," Legolas says. Unless he has missed the mark, this man is new money – he has the look: the overconfidence, the gaudy clothes. It is all part of the game – Legolas is observant, knows just what to say to cause the most effect.

He has not missed the mark. The man shoves him forward, causing Legolas, with his bound feet, to lose his balance and stumble to his knees. The jarring pain is mingled with a sense of satisfaction: he is winning.

"Secure him," the man snarls, and his underlings cautiously approach Legolas. He is bound hand and foot, he cannot resist much; still, he manages to trip one of them as they drag him to the wall.

Three of them hold him down as another cuts the bonds on his wrists and another two seize his arms and force them in front of him, where they are bound again. The rope is linked through a metal ring on the wall and tied securely, leaving Legolas kneeling, facing the wall, his back exposed to the room at large.

He knows this game. He has played it many times.

He hears the crack of the whip before he feels it and does his best to avoid flinching. When the blow comes it is surprising: the whip is thicker than those he has encountered before. He keeps his face carefully blank, staring at the stone wall. They cannot see his face, but it is how he plays the game.

The blows come harder and faster, cutting first his clothes and then his skin. He had forgotten what it felt like; it has been several years since he has been beaten like this, since before the War of the Ring…

It is becoming a struggle to keep his face impassive, and at the rate this is going, he knows what comes next: tears, moans, whimpers, screams, sobs – but never, never pleas. That would be losing. And always, through the pain: pride, contempt, and if his voice can be trusted, insults. If he can insult the man, the round ends in a draw; if not, if Legolas collapses, spent, sobbing against the wall, he loses. Sometimes he can make it silently to unconsciousness – then he wins – but that is difficult and this time he knows he will not be able to do it.

His back is bleeding freely now, his tunic in tatters. The whip falls again; he stays silent, but his face screws up against the pain that washes over him in waves.

Waves.

He has not been beaten since before the War, since before the sea-longing. Has he perhaps found a key, a strategy that will allow him to separate himself completely from his shameful reactions, that will allow him to keep his pride and win the game?

The whip falls again. Waves, the pain is in waves, waves like the sea. He knows it is risky, but it is worth the gamble. As the whip falls again and again, he submerges himself in the waves of pain until he is not looking at the wall, he is not kneeling on the floor, he is not _there_…all that he knows is the waves and the call of the sea.

He has won.


	2. Chapter 2

**Waves Like the Sea**

**Chapter Two**

Legolas soon finds that the sea-longing is not as effective a weapon as he first thinks. He can lose himself entirely in the call, but when he resurfaces, as he always does, to aches and pains of which he does not remember the origin – when he resurfaces, the pain only seems greater the next time he insults them. He knows at some level that he should stay in the present. Still, when the pain grows unbearable (and it always does), he finds himself sinking and does nothing to slow the descent, and the power of the sea does not recede. If anything, it gets stronger, more powerful, enclosing Legolas in a deceptively soft embrace. And every time he resurfaces, he realizes that he has spent more time in the sea. And every time he sinks, he loses himself just a little bit more.

* * *

Aragorn son of Arathorn, Estel son of Elrond, King Elessar of Gondor, Strider the Ranger steps out of the ship onto the shores of Harad in the guise of Adeneth, a free agent in kidnapping, murder, and all things illegal. He hopes Legolas will laugh at the name – it means "named again" in Sindarin – and Gimli too, if he has yet mastered anything beyond the most rudimentary Elvish. If they are together, perhaps the lessons will have helped to pass the time and the Dwarf will greet him in fluent Sindarin.

He hopes they are together, for it has been long since they disappeared – more than a month. It was over a week before he realized that they were missing, several more before he discovered who had taken them and where they were taken, and another week to make the voyage. It is the first time he has left his duties since his coronation, and though he half-feels that it is still too early, that he should not have left his people – although Faramir can handle things perfectly well in his absence – his friends need him.

It takes only a few inquiries to discover their whereabouts. That it is this easy galls him: they could have been rescued weeks ago! He explains that one of his clients has a taste for the exotic, asks if there are any creatures – Elves, Dwarves, Halflings – on the market.

There are not at present, he is told, but a month or so back an Elf and a Dwarf were sold, the Dwarf to a rich miner, the Elf to a rich merchant. The Haradrim traders he questions do not seem to know why the merchant bought Legolas, but there is something in the way they look at each other when he asks that makes Aragorn worry. He considers buying them another round of drinks in an effort to learn more, but decides against it. Legolas has been a slave too long already.

Aragorn makes his way, almost running, to the house and tells the owner outright that he is looking to buy an Elf and heard that he could find one there.

The man agrees to sell readily enough, which surprises and worries Aragorn. "I'm not sure if he's broken or not," the man says upon inquiry. "He doesn't do as we tell him but he doesn't fight either…it's like he's not there."

This worries Aragorn more than he is comfortable with, and he pays the first price the man names, skipping the haggling process. He insists the Elf be brought out immediately.

Legolas is pale, thin, and dressed in a too-small shirt obviously just forced on him; blood is already beginning to seep through the fabric. He is not well; he has been badly hurt, but his body can be mended. It is not his body that concerns Aragorn.

When Legolas sees Aragorn, there is no spark of recognition, no secret look: the Elf is as if dead; his face, his blue-gray eyes are utterly vacant.

Aragorn leads Legolas, bound, back to an inn. He hates to do it, but appearances must be kept. Legolas neither protests nor accepts Aragorn's unspoken apology; he simply follows, vacant, unseeing.

When Aragorn takes Legolas to the room he has bought for the night, nothing changes. The Elf allows himself to be freed but does not turn to Aragorn, nor react when Aragorn calls his name and speaks to him, in Sindarin, in Common, in Silvan, in Quenya, even in Dwarvish.

Legolas does not - _will _not? _can _not? Aragorn doesn't know which prospect is worse - respond. Aragorn peers into his eyes; they are completely blank. No matter how he tries, there is nothing he can do. Eventually he gives up. He cleans Legolas' many wounds and tells him to sleep, which the Elf does, close-eyed.

The man was right: Legolas is not there. Aragorn has not given up hope, though – he is not called Estel for nothing. There is still Gimli, and barring that, the peaceful forests of Ithilien, of Lasgalen, of Imladris, and barring that - but he will not think of that, not yet.

The morning presents a new challenge: he does not know what to do with Legolas. Finally he gives the Elf a knife and directs him to defend himself if necessary – Legolas is obedient to most of his commands (excepting "Come back!" "Wake up!" and "Talk to me!") which convinces Aragorn that Legolas, on some level, is still there – the man said that Legolas would not obey _them_, but he listens to Aragorn easily enough. The revelation gives him hope. The prospect of retrieving Gimli, and the thought that the Dwarf will be able to help Legolas where Aragorn cannot, gives him more. He goes to find Gimli.

* * *

Gimli does not like this life, but he has grown accustomed to it. It is repetitive, mind-numbing work – mining the sands for oil –and his owner is not cruel, merely enterprising, and Gimli is treated well enough - better than most, in fact, due to his skill. It irks his pride to be a slave, but the work is familiar, so he endures. It is only a matter of time until he finds the moment to escape – though they have been watching him too closely for that, they grow less wary with every passing day and he knows that soon his chance will come – or until someone (Legolas, Aragorn, his own people perhaps, here by some lucky chance) comes looking for him.

Life is not enjoyable, but it is easily bearable. He only hopes that Legolas is as well off. He hopes it, but he does not believe it – the Elf seems to have the worst luck.

One of the overseers calls him over, tells him briskly, "You're leaving. I regret it - you're a good worker, but the price is too high. You're sold."

Gimli takes this in with some trepidation – he does not want to be taken farther from Legolas – but it turns to elation when he sees who has bought him: Aragorn, looking more like Strider the Ranger than he has in years. The man shoots him a warning look and Gimli quickly schools his features. He is saved, Legolas is saved – but why does Aragorn look so worried?

Gimli finds out on the road. He walks behind Aragorn, bound as a slave ought to be, but he is close to the man and can hear his muttered words. "I bought Legolas yesterday. He's not well. He doesn't recognize me."

Gimli's heart seems to stop. He loves that annoying, frustrating Elf, and if he were to lose him – "What happened to him?"

"I do not know," Aragorn says reluctantly. "It is like he is not there."

When Gimli sees Legolas, he understands. He recognizes the look, though that does not console him. "I have seen him like this before," he tells Aragorn, "but never for long, and he always brings himself out of it. It is how he looks when he hears a gull."

"The Harnen?" Aragorn names the river that runs through the city.

"Nay; we sailed it on our journey here, and it did not affect him then, at least not that I could see," Gimli says.

"And he has not been near it since," Aragorn murmurs, almost to himself.

They try everything they can think of: speaking to Legolas in every language they can think of, even those the Elf himself has not heard; ordering him, asking him, pleading him to wake up; but he does not respond.

"He doesn't want to come back," Gimli says. "Not to this. Can you call him, like you did to Eowyn?"

Aragorn protests that _athelas_ is only effective with dark wounds and that he doubts that anything will happen, but it is worth a try. They light a fire on the dirt floor, boil water, and Aragorn crushes the plant and calls, "Legolas. Legolas, _mellon nin. Lasto beth nin, tolo dan nan ngalad._"

Nothing happens.

"Wake up, you infuriating Elf!" Gimli shouts.


	3. Chapter 3

**Waves Like the Sea**

**Chapter Three**

Legolas awakens slowly; the sea is reluctant to yield him, and he finds that, without knowing why, he has to strive with all his might to resurface. At first he is aware only of a sharp scent penetrating the swirling haze, and then he hears familiar voices and is brought slowly back to the present. He blinks once, twice. He does not know where he is, or what has happened. The shirt he is wearing is not his, he has wounds he does not remember recieving, his body is thinner and weaker than it should be.

He stares at his friends; he can tell from Gimli's tanned, weather-beaten skin that they have been here for some time. And Aragorn is here, he has traveled here from Gondor. He has lost, Legolas realizes with growing trepidation, days, even weeks. It is troubling that he could lose himself so completely for so long – and he has not escaped it completely, yet. The song of the sea rages in his mind, in his blood. Every part of him yearns for it, to travel the waves, to find peace…

"Legolas!" Aragorn says sharply, and Legolas is jolted back. He was slipping…but ai! This is terrible, it is stronger than it has ever been, he cannot resist it, it calls to him even here…he forces his attention on his friends, on Aragorn, on Gimli. Gimli! He recalls his worries for his friend.

"You are well?" he questions anxiously.

"I'm fine," Gimli says gruffly. "You're the one we're worried about. What happened to you?"

Legolas turns to Aragorn, lost. "How long have we been here?"

"Over a month," Aragorn answers quietly.

Legolas' head swims…he has lost over a month, within himself, within the sea-song.

"What happened?" Gimli repeats impatiently.

Legolas shakes his head slowly. "I have lost a full month," he says quietly, still struggling to comprehend it.

"What do you remember?" Aragorn presses.

Legolas thinks back. It is not hard; he knows how he lost the month. "They were beating me. It was like the sea…I went inside it."

He can tell by their faces that they do not understand. They can never understand the sea, not as he does.

"You are back now?" Aragorn asks concernedly.

Legolas looks at him, wide-eyed and anxious. "I am back for now, Estel, but it is stronger, stronger than it has ever been, even more than when I first heard the gulls…it is inside me, Aragorn. I cannot escape it."

He is panicking, he knows, but the sea-call is now a physical ache and a power over his mind…he cannot control it inside of him nor push it aside as he once could. It almost overpowers him here in a closed room with his friends…what will happen in Ithilien, in Gondor, where he is so close to the river Anduin? And Anduin leads to the sea…

He puts his head in his hands, trying to quell the feeling of waves inside of him.

"Legolas?" Aragorn's hand is on his arm. Legolas raises his head to gaze at the man, trying to convey with the look some of the longing, the desperation of the sea-longing.

"I cannot do this, Aragorn," he whispers. "I cannot. Forgive me."

* * *

In all the years he has known Legolas – more than seventy – Aragorn has never seen him so lost. It strikes him, as if for the first time, just how much Legolas has sacrificed, for him, for Gimli, for Middle-Earth itself – for people not his own.

Aragorn has spent so much time with Legolas, indeed with Elvenkind in general, that his friend's otherness, his _elvishness_, has long gone unnoticed by Aragorn. But in spite of the closeness between them, certain things affect Legolas in ways that Aragorn cannot begin to comprehend – things like stars, forests, caves, and the sea.

Aragorn has never understood the sea-longing, though when he lived in Rivendell he saw many affected Elves pass through on their way to the Havens. But seeing Legolas now, utterly lost and almost helpless, with something like despair shining in his eyes – Aragorn can catch a glimpse of the depth of the sea-longing, though he knows he has only the barest idea of it.

He recalls unbidden the many times he has seen Legolas pause, thinking himself unnoticed, and gaze off into the West. Aragorn has not neglected the Elf; he has watched him as carefully as he can, and Gimli has watched him even closer. But it seems that it has not been enough.

Aragorn had hoped – selfishly, he admits – that Legolas would not sail until after Aragorn himself was gone from this world. He can see now just how selfish it is to wish that. As the Lady Galadriel warned, Legolas' heart can never truly be at rest on these shores. Much as it pains Aragorn to admit it, it is time for Legolas to sail.

* * *

Gimli had hoped, foolishly, that the intensity of the sea-longing would pass. He has seen Legolas slip away inside himself before, seen him lose minutes, hours, even days – but as time goes by, as the three friends begin their journey back to Gondor, he can tell that Legolas is not getting better. He is, if anything, getting worse.

It is not for lack of effort on the Elf's part. Legolas is trying, trying desperately, to stay in the present, in the here and now, but more and more often Gimli sees Legolas' eyes glaze over in the midst of conversation, his mind lost to the sea. Once, only a few days into their journey, they hear a gull and Legolas is lost for three days, until Aragorn has the sense to abandon the river and travel back to Gondor on the Harad Road – yet even that is not enough to ground Legolas for long.

The Elf is changed. Even when he is _here_, he is not completely present. He does not joke, nor tease, nor banter, and Gimli knows that there is always some part of the Elf's mind listening to the sea's call.

Gimli is not particularly spiritual, but he finds himself praying to Mahal, to Eru, to Legolas' Elbereth, asking them to keep the Elf here, to ease his suffering so that Gimli will not lose him to the cruel sea. But if they can hear him, they do not listen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Waves Like the Sea**

"_Deep waters cannot quench love, nor floods sweep it away"_

_-Songs 8:7_

**Chapter Four**

To Legolas, everything is hazy, as if experienced from a great distance or from underwater. The rhythm of the sea beats in his heart and its song resounds in his ears, so that he can think of nothing but heeding its call. Yet when he looks at Aragorn or Gimli, he is reminded of his private vows to himself. He does not want to leave his friends, but the sea is calling, calling.

--

The journey to Gondor is for the most part uneventful, but Aragorn is more worried than he has ever been. Legolas' condition, for want of a better word, is worsening, and it seems only a matter of time before Legolas must sail.

The reality is difficult to accept, and it leaves a bitter taste in Aragorn's mouth and a dull ache in his heart. He does not want to lose Legolas, but he knows that if the Elf continues like this, the sea-longing will eventually kill him. Aragorn tells himself that he loves Legolas enough to let him, to even _make_ him sail. It does not make it any easier.

--

Time is becoming strange for Legolas. He is losing minutes and hours without realizing it, and suddenly he can see the White City in the distance. Soon – too soon, he has lost time – they are inside its gates, making their way to its center, trumpeters heralding their return. A soldier stops Aragorn and tells him that Arwen and Eldarion returned to Minas Tirith only a few days ago from a visit to Prince Imrahil in Dol Amroth by the sea.

The soldier does not speak the last part, but Legolas hears it nonetheless. He envies Imrahil his dwelling place – Legolas himself visits the sea much less than he would like, fearful of the strength of its call. Can it possibly be stronger than it is now? he wonders. Can it possibly get any worse?

--

When Aragorn hears that Arwen and Eldarion have recently returned from the sea, he considers keeping them from Legolas. There doubtless will be a word, a passing comment that will send Legolas inside himself. Yet he can't bring himself to do it, partly because he has sorely missed his family, partly because he still hopes, recklessly, that the presence of those that Legolas holds dear might somehow lessen the sea's call.

--

As soon as Gimli sees Eldarion running to meet Aragorn, he knows that Legolas should not be here. As Eldarion draws closer, he can see why: the boy is holding a conch shell, one of those in which, they say, if you put it to your ear, you can hear the sea.

Gimli can think of no way to communicate his sense of foreboding as Aragorn laughs and crouches to capture his son in his open arms. The king lifts Eldarion and the little prince scrambles to face Legolas, who is watching the proceedings with a sort of half-aware smile.

"Look, Legolas! Look what I found!"

Aragorn has noticed the shell now, and he makes to set Eldarion down, but it is too late. The boy leans over Aragorn's shoulder and places the shell against Legolas' pointed ear.

--

When Legolas hears it, he is completely submerged. He forgets where he is, when he is, _who _he is. All he knows, for a torturous, heavenly length of time – time has no meaning here, it could be seconds, it could be years – is the sea. He can see its dark waters, taste the salty air, and hear, amidst the crashing of the waves, its song. It is glorious in its beauty and terrible in its need. He would leave for the sea immediately, but he is already there, amidst the waves, the waves…he would stay here forever, but he cannot. There are other voices calling him, softly but steadily, and he begins to fight the roaring waves. _No! _he cries, whether with his voice or with his soul he does not know. _Not yet! _The sea's call grows louder, attempting to drown the other voices. He is submerged, he is forgetting…but he cannot. He is still needed. He hears a panicked voice, which for a moment distracts him from the sea: the voice is familiar, a beloved voice: _lasto beth nin…_ Legolas fights, cries out with all that is left within him, _Estel! _

And then, just as suddenly, it vanishes. The vision fades, and Legolas becomes aware of hard stone beneath his hands and knees, white stone. A group is clustered around him worriedly, and Legolas looks up bemusedly to see Aragorn, Gimli, Arwen, and Eldarion.

Legolas stands, pressing a hand to his head in an attempt to soothe his aching mind. The sea-song is fading, without cause or reason. For a moment he is desolate at the loss, but then he sees his friends and remembers why the sea's call has tormented him so. Because as much as he wants to, he cannot answer it. Because his first loyalty is to his friends, because they are worth whatever torment the sea can bring.

The sea-song is not gone. He can still hear, still feel its seductive call, but now he can also see the shine of the sun on Aragorn's Elven brooch and the spreading grin on Gimli's face as he realizes that something is happening. He can sense the Elvish glow that radiates from Arwen, despite her choice, and see Eldarion's guilty, frightened face.

And now, mingling with the call of the sea, he can hear another, long-forgotten, song: the song of the forest. His spirit leaps in answer, and he knows that though his heart will not find rest in the forest, it will find joy and perhaps a temporary peace.

He lowers his hand and smiles hesitantly at his friends. He has been long absent, he knows, but this will change.

"I'm staying," he announces, then, in response to their stunned faces, smiles.

"Did you honestly think you could get rid of me that easily?"

Gimli laughs aloud, and Aragorn struggles to hide a grin. Legolas is truly back.

--

**The End. **_Please review and tell me what you think!_


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